Lieska
by meangoose
Summary: Lieska is Finnish for "Flame." But while he is the Flame Alchemist, he can't help but feel the fire within him dying when Hawkeye slips into a coma. Her chances of living are slim, and he knows there is no hope left. Based off of Volume 10 of the manga
1. Death of a Dream

A/N--I do not own FMA or the characters. It belongs to Arakawa-sensei. I am just a fan. But! I do own this plot. It's based shortly after the whole Lust-stabbed-Roy-and-Havoc! incident in volume 10 of the manga. Kind of... what would happen if Lust actually attacked Hawkeye? Anyway... it's in first person, so I hope you guys don't get too confused. It's going to switch narrators every now and then, but I'm going to do my best to specify who's talking at the beginning. It's only going to switch between Roy and Riza, so that shouldn't be too hard to figure out. Anyway, I hope you enjoy.

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_Lieska_

"Death of a Dream"

By: Sirens of Rose

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The light in her room is on, but that is the pure irony of it.

They say Fire is the purest element. While Air and Earth and Water are so easily polluted and ruined, Fire burns profoundly with unadulterated passion. It does not have to be cleaned before use, nor does it have to be restored before becoming expedient. It simply is—and always will be. How sardonic it was for someone like me to be the Flame Alchemist. I was responsible for so many deaths, and now—possibly—the death of my most trusted comrade.

I stand in the threshold for a moment, the white walls of the room contrasting with her pale flesh. Her blonde hair, which is usually pulled back, lies untouched and splayed across her pillow. The air of the room is tainted with death, and I can discern the dismal sense of loneliness lingering in the building. Her white gown clings to her figure, and her sallow features make my heart ache, for it hadn't been more than 24 hours ago when she was harping about unfinished paperwork. There had been color in her face then, and her eyes were full of life. Now, those golden-brown orbs are hidden behind closed eyelids, and it just doesn't look like Riza Hawkeye sleeping under those thin, white sheets.

Medical equipment surrounds her, and only the constant beeping of the heart monitor reminds me she is still alive. It hurts to look at her, and I want to run away from the misery of seeing her in such a vulnerable state; but I am too afraid of leaving her alone. I couldn't—wouldn't—leave her alone. Not again.

"You don't look like yourself, Lieutenant," I state in a low monotone. "This appearance doesn't suit you at all. I wish you'd go back to your old self."

I pull up a chair next to her bedside and take hold of her seemingly lifeless hand. I place her cold fingers to my lips and close my eyes. Before, she had been so alive; now, she is a sleeping beauty in her coma. The doctors aren't even sure of how much longer she will last like this. I have been wounded myself by the homunculus, but not nearly as much as she has. As fate would have it, I came in just seconds after the so-called "Lust" attacked her. It seemed like she had just given up on everything when she was told I was dead. She had lost so much blood... They said she had been stabbed six times.

"You should have been more careful," I scold her sadly. "You should have paid attention instead of mourning over something as wretched as I am. Damn it, Riza, don't you get it? Hughes is already gone, and you're all I have left. You idiot."

I break down as I hold her hand to my brow. I want to sleep next to her, in comatose next to her, dying next to her. If she can't live, then neither can I. It should be me lying there instead of her anyway. I don't want to go on. I just want to close my eyes and never wake up. I want to be like Hawkeye, embracing death.

"No, it's not your fault," I tell her. "It's mine. You saved my life plenty of times, and I couldn't save yours once. How pathetic is that?"

The wound in my side begins to ache, but I ignore it. The nurses had encouraged me to remain in bed, but I refused. I threatened to torch them if they didn't allow me to visit my dearest Lieutenant. I don't care how much pain I am in. It is nothing compared to what she is facing now.

"No, she's going to be fine," I tell myself. "This is Hawkeye. She's perfect. She can't just die."

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A/N--I love reviews. Oh, and I already have chapters 2 and 3 written, so they should be up soon. They're just going through my editors before I post them up. I'll get them up soon, though.


	2. Phantom Agony

A/N--Hey, there. Meagan here. I want to thank my reviewers before anything else. You guys are great. Reviews give me inspiration, so the more you give me, the better I'll write. It's as simple as that. Lol. Anyway, here's Part 2. Hope you enjoy.

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_Lieska_

"Phantom Agony"

By: Sirens of Rose

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I have always been repulsed by sheets like these. The shade of purest white beneath me makes my skin clamber for some reason. Maybe, it's because I covet what it epitomizes, which is purity. I have never been wholesome, and I never will be. All my life, I have feigned to be one of them, just like those firm fighters. _Just like you_. I longed to be a respectable human being, but now I recognize how impossible that is. I will never be adequate, and I don't deserve to be happy. Not after all I've done. It's my fault you're dead, Roy. Now, there is only one road left for me to take. If there was ever a path in my life which led to happiness, I missed it long ago. There is no turning back now.

I'm sitting on the perimeter of the bed, facing the open window, upon pure white sheets. They are tucked gently and perfectly around the mattress. Upon those sheets lies a woman who resembles me. Medical equipment surrounds her, and she is sleeping in comatose. I find it metaphorical because of how dead I feel now that you're gone. I feel like I am asleep and will never wake up. Not until you come back. And we both know that will never happen. You're dead.

I don't know exactly where I am. I know it's a hospital room, but I can't remember how I got here. I can't remember anything past asking that homunculus to kill me. I hear footsteps coming from outside.

Is that you, Roy?

Oh, God. It is. I see you standing in the threshold. "Where are we?" I ask, but you don't answer. You keep staring at the girl in the bed. Your eyes look so sad, and your posture isn't as upright as usual. I can see the misery dressed on your face as you stare at that woman. You think it's me, don't you?

"No, I'm right here!" I call out to you. You ignore me. "I'm right here, Roy… Please see me."

"_You don't look like yourself, Lieutenant. This appearance doesn't suit you at all. I wish you'd go back to your old self."_

I smile as I hear you speak. Your voice sounds the same as it did yesterday, when you were alive. Although it is monotone and lacking energy, it feels so good to hear your voice again. For a moment, I thought I'd never hear it again. I don't know if I'm crazy or if we're both dead. Maybe this is the afterlife, or maybe this is a dream. In any case, I wish to enjoy this precious time with you.

"_You should have been more careful. You should have paid attention instead of mourning over something as wretched as I am. Damn it, Riza, don't you get it? Hughes is already gone, and you're all I have left. You idiot."_

"You're not making much sense, sir," I tell you calmly. "Why are you complaining? You're already dead. If anyone's going to be angry, it should be me. You're the one who took the easy way out, leaving me alone like that. How could you do that to me? You're all I have to live for, and now you're going to bitch about my dying with you? I made a promise to stay by your side…"

"_No, it's not your fault. It's mine. You saved my life plenty of times, and I couldn't save yours once. How pathetic is that?"_

"Save _my _life?" I question. I didn't do anything for you. You died because I wasn't there to protect you. You couldn't save me if you were dead. You're blaming yourself for stupid things again… Don't say things like that. Just blame it on me. At least I chose to die; you didn't."

I reach out to touch you, and my hand brushes across your shoulder. I feel the warmth and the fabric beneath my fingers, but my touch doesn't seem to faze you in the least. Tears form in my eyes because I know now you cannot see me. I'm not really here, am I? I still don't know where I am. I just know I'm with you… and you can't even see me.

I can no longer contain myself. I throw my arms around you in desperation. I don't care if you can't feel me.

"_No, she's going to be fine. This is Hawkeye. She's perfect. She can't just die."_

I'm sorry, Colonel, but I'm already dead. When you died, I died with you. With your own, you took my breath.

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A/N--If you give me a review, I'll love you forever.


	3. Anesthetized

A/N--I want to thank everyone for all of the kind reviews!! Also, I want to thank those who have added this story to their alert list. I think I have three so far. I would like to see more! :D No favorites yet, but that's my goal. It may be a stupid dream, but I'll keep my hopes up, nonetheless. I've already planned out the ending, so I know what's going to happen. Part 4 is already written, but I have to get it to my editors. And I already know what's happening after that, so updating shouldn't be a problem. Anyway... I hope you enjoy the chapter.

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_Lieska_

"Anesthetized"

By: Sirens of Rose

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"How does she look, chief?" asks my subordinate, Jean Havoc, who has also been hospitalized after the night's incidents. As I reenter the room, which we are sharing, I keep my gaze averted from his cobalt eyes. I can sense the worry in his tone. He doesn't yet know her condition, only that she was wounded shortly after we were by the same homunculus. I don't know if I should tell him or not. I don't know if I _want _to tell him or not. Mostly because I don't want to admit it. I know he deserves to know; I just don't think I can handle it.

I recall the paleness of her features and how cold her hands felt against my skin. She doesn't look much better now than when I found her, just after reducing the homunculus to a pile of ashes and dust. I already miss her, especially knowing I am partly to blame for her injuries and—possibly soon—her death. From what the doctors have told me, they doubt she will even make it through the night.

I close my eyes for a moment, and I suddenly see the faces of all the people who were killed by my mistakes. Ishbal, Maes… and now Riza joins those faces as well. One more life ruined because of my foolishness. If I had gotten there sooner, she would have been okay. Of course, it would have been even better if I had taken care of that damned woman before she got the chance to wound Havoc. Then, everyone would be okay. No one would be in the hospital. No one would be facing death.

It is then I focus my attention back to Havoc's question. I don't know how long I have been avoiding the answer, lost in my own thoughts of regret and self-hatred, but his expression is as calm as always.

"She's looked better," I say grimly, and then I step over to my own bed and sit on the edge. As I stare down at the floor, I hear him sigh out of mild irritation.

"That serious, huh?" His voice sounds distant and indignant. I don't answer right away because I know the only thing I can say to him now is the truth.

"They don't know how much longer she's going to last," I state dimly. "I'd tell you to go over there and say your goodbyes, but she can't hear you in comatose."

There is an unsettling silence in the room. I can't look at him. I don't want to see the pain in his eyes. Although he didn't share much of a history with the Lieutenant like I did, he did adore her in his own way. We all did. She made work seem like home, even if she was constantly harping and bitching about—what we thought were—pointless things. She took her work seriously. She was a perfectionist, and that's what made her so damn faultless. But it wasn't just about the dedication she showed and the loyalty she presented; it was about how much she cared for us. She may not have showed it often, but she had a compassionate side. She always took care of us, and she would have given her life to keep us safe. It was like that's all she had to live for, like the reason she asked that monster to kill her—which I heard just as I walked in—was because she believed there was no one left for her to protect.

It's like walking around with a loaded gun to your head. Even still you have the glass of scotch in your other hand because it's the only thing keeping you from pulling the trigger. You drink it and savor its flavor because you know you need it in order to forget everything bad in life. You want to think of the good things, and the alcohol is the only thing in this world that's going to do that for you. And when the scotch is all gone, it leaves you with nothing but a hangover and a bottle of painkillers.

"I couldn't go over there to bid her farewell anyway," I hear him say after the long period of silence. There is no emotion left in his tone, which I know is very unlike him. I can tell the news is hitting him hard. "I can't feel either of my legs." And then he starts laughing, though it's a bit maniacal compared to his usual tone. But the laughter is soon replaced by hushed sobs. Sadness settles into the atmosphere of the room, almost as if it has made itself at home.

I suppose I'll have to get used to it.

I smile awkwardly and lie down on the mattress, still facing away from him. I close my eyes to keep myself from joining him in his misery, even though I am much farther gone than he is by now. I saw it happen. I held her in my arms while her blood painted my uniform in dark crimson, and the only thing I could hear was Alphonse Elric's cries a short distance away, whose armored legs had been stripped from him to keep him from interfering.

"That's peculiar…" I say in response. I envision her in my mind, and I can see her calm expression. It suddenly hits me that I might never hear her yell about unfinished paperwork ever again. "I can't feel _anything_."

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A/N--You know what to do. Review button. Click away. :) Thank you.


	4. New Moon

A/N--Okay. Part 4 is here. This will be the last part I write from Riza's POV. The last two will be from Roy's. Btw, I want to thank everyone for the reviews. I got some more alerts as well. Still no favorites... -sigh- I'll keep my hopes up, though! X3 I haven't started writing Part 5 yet, but I'm about to go work on it now. I'll stay up until 4 in the morning if I have to! Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy.

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_Lieska_

"New Moon"

By: Sirens of Rose

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I told you I'd follow you to Hell if I had to. I guess you didn't take me seriously.

You haven't come to visit me in three days. Since then, I've been listening to the nurses exchange information as they enter the room. I know now I am not dead; I am, in fact, alive. The girl in the bed is no one but myself, but I still don't know how I'm able to wander around like a ghost while my body rests in its coma. I also heard about both yours and Havoc's conditions.

I can feel my heart beating faintly in the stillness of the room, and the toxicity of darkness distills into the cardiac muscle beneath my breast. I'm not here anymore. My eyes are open, and I can see the shadows around me moving on their own. I'm breathing faintly, and I can feel the hot air sliding down my throat as I inhale deeply with each passing moment. My body continues to lie in the hospital bed, but my soul--which I consider myself at the moment--stares out of the open window and leans against the sill, and a light breeze drifts inside. It's strange how it doesn't lift my hair in the least. It's because I'm not really here. Not physically anyway.

I sigh deeply. I want to visit you in your own room, but I don't know which one is yours. And it's not like I can ask a nurse to lead me there. No one can see me. It looks like I'm stuck here until I wake up or die.

I can now honestly say I know what it's like to long for death. I'm embarrassed to admit it now, but I really did drop on my knees and beg that woman to kill me, for anything had to be better than living a pointless life. A life without you in it. Nothing seems worth it when you're in such a state.

I am like the driftwood. The ocean around me is tossing me forwards and backwards until I can't take it anymore. Until I finally sink. And then, after some time, it finally washes me ashore to be observed by some innocent bystander, who wonders how the hell I ended up in such a miserable state.

I still don't understand, though, how you lived. I guess it doesn't matter now. I really screwed up this time, doubting you like that. I should have known better. You wouldn't die without first achieving your goal. Likewise, I can't leave this earth until I've helped you do so. I'm not so sure if I can do that now. Apparently, it's a miracle I've lasted this long. From what the nurses were saying, they didn't expect me to make it through the first night.

"They would have gone ahead and pulled the plug because there's really no hope for her," I heard a plump, red-headed nurse say just yesterday, "but that Colonel she works for simply won't allow it."

I could not help but smirk as she said this. I imagined you, wearing that same solemn expression, raising your voice at the doctors who were keeping me alive. I don't blame you, though. As I think about it, I realize I would have been the same way if it were the other way around.

I don't know what I want anymore. What I _should _want. Honestly, I want to live, but I don't think I deserve to. I'm the reason it ended up this way. I'm the one who asked to die. Why should fate have mercy on me because, oh, things changed. He's not really dead. I take that back. I don't want to die anymore.

I guess I've gone numb by now, especially knowing how upset you are. I don't deserve your apprehension. Not really. I deserve death because that's what I asked for.

Even though the moon has concluded its course and hides somewhere away from the sun, thus hindering it of the reflection of light which usually illuminates the earth at nighttime, the air remains eccentrically tepid. Although I cannot see the moon, common sense tells me it is still there. Just because it isn't visible doesn't mean it is gone. It's just the new moon, and the absence is a part of its natural course. I smile as I observe this metaphor. I have learned my lesson. Just because you're gone for a moment doesn't mean you'll never return.

I suddenly begin to feel pressure in my shoulders, weighing down on me and immediately forcing me onto my knees. My entire body feels heavy. So heavy I couldn't hold myself up. I feel like the breath has been sucked from my lungs. I try to lean against the wall for support, but I cannot concentrate well enough to do so.

What's happening to me?

I hear the heart monitor on the other side of the room. My pulse has quickened at an alarming rate, and I can feel my soul slowly slipping away. Everything around me is dimming, and there is nothing I can do about it.

I don't know what's going to happen after this. Not really. There's no proof of an afterlife. Is there really Heaven and Hell? And if there is, where am I going? What if nothing happens? What if I just blow out like a candle in the wind, leaving nothing behind but a trail of smoke? Memories which fade away as time progresses…

I'm dying…

No, I can't die yet. I have to protect you. I made a promise, a vow. I swore to follow you wherever I had to. I can't leave you yet, Roy.

But before I can react, it's too late. There is nothing but darkness now.

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A/N--Ooooh. Cliffhanger! Go ahead and sue me.


	5. Higher than Hope

A/N--I want to apologize for the cliffhanger... NOT!! It was so much fun. XD Anyway, thanks for the reviews, everyone! And lookie here... A favorite! Thanks, PTG! Well, I hope you guys enjoy the new chapter. I got four hours of sleep last night because I stayed up to finish it, then woke up and started working on it again. I know it doesn't seem like I got a lot done, but I rewrite each chapter at least 4 times before I publish it. So... there you have it. Anyway, enjoy. And please leave reviews!

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_Lieska_

"Higher than Hope"

By: Sirens of Rose

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He hasn't had a cigarette in three days, and that is more than obvious. I can't recall ever seeing the 2nd Lieutenant so restless. I know it's not just the lack of nicotine, though. Of course, he's also worried about Hawkeye, and it he can't get up and visit her; he's paraplegic.

I haven't moved much myself in the past few days. I haven't even spoken much either. Havoc has done most of the talking, though most of it is too optimistic for me to tolerate. It makes me sick the way he can remain so positive in such a situation, but he has his hopes set on Hawkeye miraculously waking up when we both know she doesn't have a chance or survival. We know it's only a matter of time, and it's as if he rubbing it in with all this pointless optimism.

"If you know she doesn't have a chance, then why won't you let them pull the plug?" he asked me once. I didn't answer him, only continued to brood and submerge myself in guilt and distress. I guess, in my disoriented thoughts, a part of me still believes she's going to pull through. Because it's Hawkeye. She can do anything.

I think the main reason Havoc's buoyancy pisses me off so much is because he talks about things like throwing a party for her at the office when she comes back. A party she'll never attend. Oh, and things like "She's going to flip when she sees we're in the hospital, too."

"Yeah, you know why?" I had answered then with a dangerous tone. "Because she thinks we're dead. That's why she practically begged that bitch to kill her; she thought she had no more reason to live."

The light had faded from his cerulean eyes, but I didn't have any regrets on my choice of words. I was honest, and I couldn't feel guilty for that.

Now, he's staring straight ahead, sighing deeply as he struggles to get comfortable by only using the upper half of his body to shift himself. But I know the paraplegia isn't what's keeping him from getting comfortable; it's worrying about Hawkeye.

"I wonder what she could be dreaming about for three straight days," he says after finally settling down. "You think she'll remember when she wakes up?"

Only Havoc… Only he would wonder what she was dreaming about rather than whether or not she was going to make it like normal people did.

"_If_ she wakes up, Havoc. _If."_

"Doctors are wrong all the time," he states matter-of-factly. "They said she wasn't gonna make it through the first night, and she's lasted this long already. She'd shoot ya if she knew you were underestimating her like this."

"It's not that I don't have faith in her; I'm just facing the facts. Medics don't talk about pulling the plug unless there's absolutely no hope. I'm just not letting them do it because I don't think I can bear the guilt of her dying because I told them it was okay to go ahead and let her die."

Even though I am looking away from him, I can feel him glaring at me. I ignore him because I don't feel like arguing anymore, and I know he is about to say something. I refuse to talk about it any further. I part of me already wishes she would come back and prove Havoc's theory, but another part of me wants her to just go ahead and die instead of making me wait for an answer. If she's going to live, let her wake up. If she's going to die, let her do it in peace. I don't want to wait anymore, and I feel guilty for being so impatient. Like Havoc, I really don't want to give up hope, but a part of me knows such fantasies are a waste of time.

"I'm not saying to get your hopes up, chief," he says. "I'm just saying to keep an open mind."

"Yeah, I tried that once," I say, my voice raised. I turn to glare at him. I don't want to lose my temper, but I know it's going to happen anyway. "I kept an open mind. I thought things could get better because Hughes was going to help me get there. I had faith in him, and he _died._ And he died because of _me, _Havoc. Now, Hawkeye's dying because of me. You want to know why I'm such a damn pessimist, Havoc? Because life's a bitch. Life's a fucking bitch. And it takes and takes until there's nothing left to take."

Silence envelops the room as I look away from him. It's awkward and unnerving now. I immediately regret raising my voice because I have no right to take out my anger on him. He doesn't understand how I feel, and I shouldn't expect him to.

"I'm sorry," he says after a moment of silence, and I look at him again--about to speak--when one of Riza's doctors enters the room with a stern look on his face. He's a short, lean man with light brown hair. His dark eyes seem clouded with both shock and disturbance. I can't tell what's wrong, but we make eye contact, and neither of us speak for a couple of seconds.

"Colonel Mustang?"

I can't read his tone at all. I don't know if he wants to tell me good news or bad news, or if he just wants to give me an update on how she's doing. My heart stops for a moment out of fear because I'm afraid of what he's going to say.

"Sir, you need to come with me."

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A/N--Mwah ha ha haaa!! You still don't know what happens! Now, I must hide under this here table before I get shot by angry readers...


	6. The Undying Flame

A/N -- And it's here. Part 6. Sorry if it took a while... One of my reviewers shot me, and I spent the night in the hospital for abused writers... J/k. Thank you, reviewers. And thank you altert-people. And also, thank you for the favorites. I was so excited to see those! Anyway... this is the last chapter, but I have another idea for a fanfic. It's going to be a lot longer and a lot more in depth. I've got a lot of ideas, so stay tuned! So, thanks again, and enjoy.

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Lieska

"The Undying Flame"

By: Sirens of Rose

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"What's the meaning of this?" I demand as he leads me down the narrow hall. The dim light only adds discomfort to the already haunting atmosphere, these rooms where so many have died already. So many lives have departed from these rooms, and now it's likely that hers is the next to go. Where he's leading me is the way to Hawkeye's room, but I'm not sure of what to expect. I'm getting chills from thinking about what's happened. I wish this asshole would just tell me what was going on instead of keeping me in the dark about it.

Obscurity dwells within me, a reflection of each dark, empty room we walk by. Those rooms which harbored the lives of the sick and wounded, who had already parted from this world, leaving nothing behind but a black void in an vacant space.

"Just see for yourself" he states as we arrive at her door. It's closed, but I'm not sure if I want to walk in yet or not. I can feel my stomach churning from the anxiety. I'm dreading what's behind that door. Is she dead? Alive? Or is it something else? For all I know, someone could be in there. It could be someone who wants to speak to me. But that doesn't make much sense. At this point, I really don't know what to expect. There are so many possibilities running through my head, I can't set my mind straight.

Hesitantly, I open the door. I recall the other day when I walked in here. I remember seeing her body, lying there helplessly. How vulnerable and weak she looked. So pale and exposed. So _dead. _God, if there _is _a god… please don't let her be dead now. I know, before, I said I wanted her to go ahead and die if that's what was meant to happen, but I can't make it without her. I'm _lost _without her. I'm lost now, just thinking about having to live without her. I need a miracle. I need Havoc to be right about this. I need… I need _her._

The Atheist in me begins to inwardly curse at me as I think such things. To even consider depending on a god. There is no god… If there is, he's sick. He's probably laughing at me, taking all of the things I cared about away from me.

No… It's nothing like that. It's punishment from whatever power makes this world turn, whether it be a god or not. It's my sentence for all of the lives I've taken. I don't deserve happiness, so every time I come close to grasping it, it is snatched from me. I just wish Hughes and Hawkeye didn't have to suffer for my mistakes.

Her body is still lying in the bed, and all seems silent. Deathly silent. Fear pours into me and envelops my senses. It's hard to tell what's going on immediately, especially since I think the reason I don't hear anything is because terror has numbed my senses. I think this because I can't feel anything, not even my feet on the white-tiled floor.

And then I notice something about her. Something I didn't see three days ago when I saw her last…

_Her eyes are open._

"It's good to see you're alive, sir," I hear her say. She's sitting up in the bed, and she's smiling gently. The same, old Hawkeye.

"It's good to see _you're _alive," I say hoarsely because I can feel the lump in my throat. I finally gain feeling in my legs again and rush to her bedside. I throw my arms around her desperately, almost as if I'm afraid she'll slip away if I let go of her. I feel her arms wrap around me as well, and we hold each other in a tight embrace. So tightly it seems to smother us. But we don't care. We are two broken souls reunited. Neither of us can live without the other, and we know that now. Because we almost lost each other and realized how much one needed the other. It's like one is the fuel, and the other is the oxygen. Without both, you can't make a fire. Without her, I am nothing but a collection of matter. Together, we are the undying Flame.

"I'm sorry I lost faith in you," she says, but her voice is shaky. I know she is crying.

"Don't worry about it," I respond. "I can't be angry about that because, for a while there, I lost faith in you, too." I remember the conversation Havoc and I had just moments ago. I had indeed lost faith in her, and I can't be mad at her for how all of this happened in the first place. Not when I am guilty of the same crime. "Just don't get hurt again. Who else is going to help me with my paperwork?"

"Don't worry. I'm not leaving you anytime soon. Someone has to keep you in line."

I smile and pull back from the embrace. I look into her golden-brown eyes. They are full of life now, though also full of tears, and the color has returned to her face. Yes, she is perfect. Even when the doctors say she has no hope, she pulls through and proves them wrong. It's just like her, really. Stubborn as always…

Yes, I am the fuel which keeps her going. I know this because of how she reacted when she thought I was dead. And she is the oxygen which fills my lungs and keeps me alive. And this, I know, because of how dead I felt when she was almost gone. How deprived of air I felt. How suffocated. She is the oxygen which ignites my flame.

"I'm sorry I didn't get there sooner," I finally tell her, but she places her index finger on my lips and looks at me sternly.

"Don't even start," she scolds lightly. And then she smiles.

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A/N -- The End. Please R&R. I hope you enjoyed.


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